Confessions of a Drunk IT Girl
by BunnyGoBoom
Summary: One-shot. If you think sober Felicity is funny...


Bright lights flash and music blasts as people dance in the club; Verdant had quickly become a popular spot for Starling City citizens looking to party. Oliver roams the dance floor's perimeter with his best friend.

"Hey, do we know her?" Tommy nods to a certain blonde on the dance floor, who is waving at them enthusiastically.

Oliver squints at the girl, noting how obviously drunk she is. She's gorgeous: long curly hair, plump red lips, an amazing body encased in a snug emerald dress, killer legs…

Then it hits him.

"That's Felicity," Oliver says, stunned.

"Wait," Tommy looks at him, bewildered. "_That's _your I.T. girl?"

Oliver waves back at the now-identified blonde, a look of complete shock on his face. "Yeah, it's her."

"Holy crap,"

"Yep,"

Felicity comes teetering towards them, nearly falling over in her four-inch stiletto heels. "Hi!" she greets a little too loudly. "Hi, Ollie!" Her brow furrows. "Oliver… Mr. Queen. Oh, wait—Mr. Queen was your father. Oops. Hey, your club is awesome!"

Oliver and Tommy exchange a smile.

"Felicity, this is Tommy."

Tommy extends his hand and she shakes it vigorously.

"'Bout time I met you," she says. "I never get to meet anybody. Oliver never introduced me to McKenna, or Helena… Well, I did meet Helena, but that went horribly. But I haven't met Laurel, either! Or Thea! Oliver thinks he needs to keep his little tech gremlin in the basement."

"That's terrible," says Tommy, amused.

"Yeah! Oliver, are you _ashamed_ of me?" Her voice gets high as she stares at her boss, her mouth gaping at the sudden revelation.

"Of course not," he answers, shaking his head and smirking. "How much have you had to drink?"

She counts on her fingers with a look of deep concentration. After starting over three times, she gives up. "I forgotted." She pouts, realizing that didn't sound right. "And I forgotted how to grammar, too."

Tommy laughs at her, and Felicity joins in. Oliver laughs as well, but he's worried she might get taken advantage of in her inebriated state. He notices a lot of guys looking at her.

"Do you think maybe it's time for you to go home?" Oliver suggests.

"Pfft!" she scoffs. "No way! I'm dancing with my new friends! They're from work and they've been _so_ nice to me. We went shopping together for dresses before coming here, and they helped me pick this out. And the shoes, too. It's green. Isn't that funny? 'Cause, you know…"

Oliver can't help but examine her again. The dress shows off both her surprisingly ample cleavage and long, curvaceous legs. And even what the dress _does_ cover… wow.

"Hey, you wanna dance, Oliver?"

The question snaps him out of his observation.

"I'm really bad at it," she continues. "But it's really fun and I need someone firm to lean against when I start tipping over. I don't mean firm like how your muscles are really firm—I mean that all my friends are in heels and I might knock them over if I lean on them. You're tall and you're broad. You're like a brick wall. I can push you and you just…" She shoves him with both hands. "See? You're solid! You're not going anywhere. So will you dance with me?"

Oliver doesn't know how to respond. "Um… I really think you should call it a night. I can call Diggle and—"

She blows a raspberry. "Lame! _I'm _gonna go dance with my cool new friends who know how to have fun. Later, Captain Buzzkill!" With a sarcastic salute, she turns around. Two steps later, she loses balance and lands face-first on the dance floor. Oliver and Tommy rush to help her up.

"Are you okay?" asks Oliver.

"Wow, I am _drunk_." admits Felicity as she sits up. "Oliver, will you carry me? Hmm? You big strong man you,"

Tommy chuckles. "Is she always this much fun?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm a hoot! Right, Oliver?"

Oliver ignores the question and helps her stand. "Felicity, I think you need to go home."

She nods, pouting. "Yeah, my shoes are killing me."

"I'll get Diggle to—"

"No, I think you should take her home." Tommy interjects.

"Nah, it's okay, Tommy. I like Diggle." says Felicity, trying to unstick her hair from her lipstick. Then she leans in. "He's nicer than Oliver." She whispers conspiratorially.

Tommy gives his exasperated friend a cheeky grin before turning back to Felicity. "Are you saying Oliver is mean to you?"

"Uh-huh!" she answers, a sad look on her face. "He _yells_ at me!"

"He does?" Tommy asks as if he were speaking to a five year old.

"He hasn't even smiled at me since I found out his secret." She says quietly as she hangs her head. "He used to smile at me all the time, but now he doesn't. I think he was faking it before so I'd help him."

Oliver winces inwardly at the confession. He hadn't known he'd been hurting her feelings that much.

"Let's get you home," he reaches out to her, and she jerks away.

"I wanna go with Diggle." she replies, avoiding eye contact.

Tommy puts a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you should go with Ollie, okay? I promise he won't yell at you."

Felicity glances at Tommy then continues to stare at the floor. Eventually, she nods.

"I gotta go say bye to my friends first." Suddenly, she brightens and looks at Oliver. "Then I have to go hug Diggle. He's here, right?"

Oliver nods, and she goes doddering off. "Yay! I'm gonna hug Diggle! Diggle's my homie!"

The guys watch as she totters over to her group of friends. Then, without warning, Tommy smacks Oliver upside the head.

"You jackass," Tommy says as Oliver gapes at him indignantly. "How can you possibly yell at that poor girl? I've only known her for less than ten minutes and I already like her better than you."

Oliver pulls out his phone to text Diggle. "I never meant to be mean to her."

Find Felicity. She's the hot mess in the green dress.

Tommy crosses his arms. "Well, you better make it up to her tonight."

"I'll be nice to her," Oliver grumbles.

Oliver had described her perfectly. Diggle gawks incredulously at the wasted blonde wobbling towards him.

"Diggle!" she squeals as she crashes into him and hugs him tightly. "Diggy-Dig-Dig! Diggly-Wiggly! Diggle-Pie! Diggly-Do-Dah!" Then she gasps as if something wonderful has just occurred to her. "_Diggle Diggle Diggle Diggle Diggle, yeah!"_ she sings.

The usually stoic bodyguard cracks up, unable to resist Felicity's silliness. "Girl, you really are a hot mess."

"The hottest!" She steps back to show off her outfit. "_Bam!_"

"Damn straight,"

"Tommy's making Oliver take me home."

"Yeah?"

"'Cause I'm _really_ drunk."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Neither did I until I fell flat on my face."

Diggle snorts. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you?"

"Nope," She shakes her head. "Oliver's gotta do it."

"Okay, but you call if you need me."

"Sir yes sir!"

Felicity stumbles away, giggling and singing. "_Weebles wobble but they don't fall down, Weebles wobble but they don't fall down…"_

Oliver scans the club for Felicity, hoping she hasn't been harassed or kidnapped or sold into a prostitution ring. He finds her vulnerable state very unsettling, and he wants to get her home where she'll be safe.

He spots her a few yards away. Oliver sighs in relief as she heads towards him. Then Oliver scowls as a guy steps in front of her, looking far too friendly. Felicity tries to go around him, but that asshole blocks her.

Furious, Oliver strides purposefully over to his drunken damsel in distress.

"I gotta go now—"

"The night's still young!" What's-His-Face strokes her upper arm. "I think we could have a lot of fun together."

"Hey!" Oliver growls. He grabs the guy's shoulder and spins him around. "She's not interested."

The deluded pickup artist backs off immediately, intimidated by Oliver's I-want-to-murder-you face. Oliver grips Felicity's hand and leads her away.

"I put my purse in the basement," she slurs. "I gotta get my purse."

"Sit on the top step while I get it for you."

Minutes later, they're in the parking lot heading towards Oliver's car. She holds on to his arm, afraid that her thin heels will betray her on the uneven asphalt.

She clumsily adjusts herself in the passenger seat as Oliver walks around to the driver's side. As he heads out onto the street, Felicity begins to fidget.

"You were really mad at that guy." she blurts.

"He was bothering you." Oliver answers. "What did you talk about with your friends?"

Felicity tugs at her earlobe. "They know that I do techie stuff for you, but they wondered if there was something going on between us. Hey, would you have sex with me?"

Oliver accidently swerved the car. "Cat," he mumbled as an explanation. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, hypothetically speaking, would you wanna get with _this_?" She gestured to her body.

He's glad it's so dark, because he's blushing. "Sure,"

"Yay!" Felicity throws her fists up in triumph. "You want me for my body _and_ my mind!" Then she looks down, and it's like she's noticing her breasts for the first time. "Whoa, my boobs look amazing in this dress! They're like a couple of ripe cantaloupes! Wait, I don't think they're that big. Honeydews? Are honeydews smaller or bigger than cantaloupes?" She cups her breasts, still unsure. "Maybe they're like those personal watermelons. Have you seen those, Oliver? They're like little baby watermelons. Do you think that's where I'm at?"

Oliver is shaking with silent laughter, his smile wide and unchecked.

Felicity realizes that this topic might be inappropriate. "I shouldn't be discussing my boobs with you, should I?"

Unable to speak, Oliver simply shakes his head.

"You know what? You're pretty."

Oliver continues to smile as he assists Felicity to her apartment. She continues to be frank with him.

"So I've been told."

"Especially when you smile like that."

His expression softens as he takes her mere observation as a compliment. "Thanks,"

They make it to her door, and she searches for the right key. "So why don't you smile at me anymore? Why only now, when I'm funny and drunk?"

Oliver shrugs, unsure. "I can be myself around you. I'm not actually a happy person."

Finding the right key, Felicity opens the door. "Sorry, but sometimes I think you should change your first name to 'Drama.'" Oliver raises his eyebrows, getting the joke. "I know you've got a lot of crap to deal with, but you're off the island now. And you've got your family and your friends, and you're making a difference in the city. So would it kill you to smile? I'll be your court jester if it makes you happy. I'll weather your tantrums and brave your brooding. Just smile at me once in a while, okay?"

Oliver just stares at her in awe. Thought when sober, said when drunk. She has no problem putting up with the monster in him. The least he can do is smile for her.

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, grinning.

Beaming, she leans in and plants a tender kiss on his cheek.

"Night, Ollie," she says before closing the door.


End file.
